


Mark Me

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Frottage, M/M, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-06
Updated: 2009-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: Ron dreams of Harry





	Mark Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Believe it or not this was done but as [](http://magicofisis.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://magicofisis.livejournal.com/)**magicofisis** knows my life is usually chaos. I'm posting this little ficlet for you now.
> 
> First off, though, I don't get to say this enough but I want to thank you for all your support the last year. I **know** some of the stuff you're going through having been through it with skin cancer so for you to be so supportive of me when all the stuff was going down with mom.
> 
> You are truly a wonderful person and while I wanted to get you Harry and his arse. I was not able to. I tried proper channels--I even thought of writing JKR to see if we could send Harry to your house--Alas it was not to be.
> 
> So...I wrote a little something, included a little Twilight mention, and some of Harry's arse.

  
Author's notes: Warnings: Frottage, dirty talk  
A/N: thanks to [](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/profile)[**madam_minnie**](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/) for the beta which totally was especially kind of her since she's also working on a paper.  


* * *

Sometimes it’s hard being a bloke—especially a bloke who is in love with his best mate. Not to mention the fact the fact that ever since we got one of those Muggle movie disc thing I’ve been dreaming about Harry marking me.

I’ve been dreaming of Harry ever since I can remember—even when I was infatuated with Hermione.

In first year I dreamed about us flying together, high over the pitch, and it was completely innocent.

Second year, I dreamed of him speaking in Parseltounge—still really innocent for the most part.

Third year there were the nightmares of him being taken by a Grim. I didn’t tell anyone. It was right embarrassing to wake up screaming and have to tell Harry it was because of Aragog. I mean how could I admit that it was **him** I was dreaming about. His brow would have furrowed and he would have apologized. My job has always been to make Harry laugh so why in my right mind would I tell him anything that would make him feel _guilty_.

Fourth year we fought and I dreamed I never had Harry. It was awful—he was my first really good friend, my best mate, and I couldn’t imagine life without him. The dreams changed though after the Second Task they became more…well bloody hell the only way I can describe it is erotic. I dreamed of Harry wet—wet hair, trails of water running down his chest, over his legs, and I dreamed of following those drops of water with my tongue. Quite disturbing it was—so that’s when I realized that I might be a bit bent.

Fifth year—I dreamed of Harry’s scar. I dreamed of touching it, of being able to take away his pain, and I watched over him. I didn’t dream as much of Harry in Fifth year. I was too busy staying awake and protecting him from **his** dreams.

Sixth year—what an effing disaster sixth year was. I had decided to put my dreams of Harry, The Prophecy, and what was ahead aside and focus on Hermione. That did not go well and I wound up wrapped up in the arms of Lavender Brown. Harry found it amusing but I doubt he would have found it funny that the only reason that I stayed with Lavender as long as I did was because I couldn’t snog him. It was a brilliant outlet for my **frustration** especially after I realized Harry had a thing for Ginny.  
Seventh year—Hermione, Harry, and I didn’t go back to Hogwarts. The dreams were still there even more naughty in nature and focused on Harry’s arse. I tried to push them aside to make things work with Hermione. Finally got things right too or I thought I had until I saw Harry being carried out of the forest by Hagrid. My whole world was shattered—everything I felt came into clear focus and I realized I loved Harry and I never told him. When we finally found that Harry wasn’t dead I promised myself I would set things right—that I wouldn’t hurt Hermione and I would tell Harry how I felt.

I partially lived up to my promise—I talked to Hermione and despite everything she didn’t seem surprised. We remained friends and she encouraged me not to put off telling Harry how I felt. I couldn’t tell him because there was Ginny--Ginny, my baby sister who I loved and who was in love with Harry. I wasn’t about to mess that up for Harry, if I told him things would change between us, and I wanted my friend more than I wanted to be in love with Harry so I kept silent.

Harry never reunited with Ginny and since we’ve moved into this flat together the dreams have intensified. Dreams of Harry’s arse flexing as I cup his cheeks in my palms, dreams of Harry’s head tossing back and forth on bed as I take his cock in my mouth, and dreams of Harry’s lips brushing against mine.

So I tried meaningless shags—both blokes and birds. It really didn’t matter to me as long as I didn’t have to make polite conversation in the morning. Shagging them didn’t change how I felt for Harry or stop the dreams but it did take the edge off.

Everything changed two nights ago and it isn’t my fault. We watch this movie about a vampire named Edward. I didn’t point out to Harry that the actor resembled Cedric Diggory. I was fascinated by the idea of being marked. The idea of Harry biting on my neck, marking me as his, and claiming me drove me wild. I couldn’t stop the dreams—I apparently I don’t cast silencing charms in my sleep either because Harry woke me in the middle of one—thought I was having a nightmare and calling his name for help. If he knew I was dreaming of having him nibbling on me he’d hit me then move out.

I went out tonight to a Pub with Charlie and I swear I tried to find someone to shag or even to just get a pull in the loo. Everyone reminded me that I couldn’t have the one person, one thing that I wanted, and I went home more frustrated than ever.

What I hadn’t expected was the complete darkness of the flat—the utter absence of light. Harry always left a light on for me when I went out and it was almost like a slap in the face to find the flat dark.

I stood in our tiny hallway, wondering who Harry was out with, and what I did to hack him off. I tripped over a pair of my own shoes as I felt my way into the living room. I cursed loudly and pulled my wand out.

“Don’t turn on the lights.”

There was a growl to Harry’s voice and I peered into the darkness trying to figure out where it was coming from. I could see a vague outline of his body in my favorite chair and I watched him lift a bottle to his lips and take a long swallow.

“Hi ya, Harry.”

There was a nervous edge to my voice, a tension in the air between us, and my heart rate sped up but I wasn’t sure why.

“Who was it tonight, Ron?”

“Who was what? I went out with Charlie and we had a few drinks at The Pub.”

“Who did you shag tonight? Did you even—“ Harry voice trailed off and now that my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see a half empty firewhisky bottle tucked between his legs and his hair was messier than usual. “Get their name?”

“No one, not that it’s any of your business—Honestly Harry what does it matter?”

Harry took another drink of the firewhisky and I could help but be transfixed by the way his lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle. He set the bottle down beside the chair and stood in one swift motion. I backed up slightly and I wasn’t even sure why. There was something dark in Harry—something I didn’t quite understand and it made me shy away from him.

“It matters,” Harry’s growled. “It matters to me.”

Harry advanced towards me, his eyes locked on mine, and I kept backing up until I hit the living room wall. Harry hands slammed against the wall next to my head and I swallowed hard. Heat burned in my belly and I almost whimpered.

“W…w…hy?”

Harry leaned into me, kicking my legs apart, and I looked down at him. His jaw was clench, his eyes were burning into mine, and I nearly came undone when his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

“Because—you want me, I know you do, I heard you,” Harry snarled. “How long have you been shagging other people and pretending its me.”

I swallowed hard and tried to find the words. I couldn’t say anything—I was trapped by his eyes, his body against mine, and gooseflesh rose on my skin.

“How long, Ron?”  
“I don’t…I can’t…”

“You can’t what, Ron? Take what’s being offered—you can’t tell **me** the truth?”

I shuddered when he leaned in and pressed his mouth against my neck, and when his teeth scraped against my pulse I began to babble.

“So sorry, didn’t want you to find out…” My head fell back against the wall as Harry pressed open mouth kisses to my neck. “Wanted you to have normal…family…Ginny…”

“You and Hermione are my family,” Harry whispered in my ear. “How long, Ron.”

“Since always…since fourth year…not shagging then but dreaming…fuck…so sorry…”

Harry pressed harder against me and I felt the swell of his erection against mine and I swear my eyes rolled back in my head. His tongue traced the shell of my ear and his hands cupped my face.

“Look at me…Ron.”

“I can’t—“

“Ron,” Harry rocked against me and I bit my lip hard. “Why are you sorry?”

My head was spinning and right at that moment I wasn’t sure why I was sorry. I just knew that I was. I forced my eyes open and I stared at him. His lips were so close now I could feel his breath against mine. I could smell the hint of firewhisky and something that was all Harry.

“I don’t…Harry…don’t want to lose you.”

“Have you been paying attention, Ron?”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” Harry whispered and slid his hand down my arm to grab my wrist. “Haven’t you figure it out yet—you could never lose me—thing I’d miss most.”

A moan escaped my lips and when he pressed my hand against the erection tenting his jeans I gave in. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, my lips slammed down on his and my fingers flexed against him.

Our tongues tangled, our hands fumbled with buttons, and I couldn’t stop touching him. My hands slid down the back of his jeans and I finally hand his arse in my palms.

“Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Harry pulled back and frowned. “I…”

His hands were tracing the outline of my cock through my jeans and I whimpered.

“You’re fine, keep doing that yeah…I can show you…”

Harry managed to get my jeans and shorts pulled down past my hips and when I pushed his further down to bare his cock my mouth watered.

I lined up our cocks with one hand, keeping the other on his arse, and when we brushed together we both moaned.

“Ron…” Harry bit out through clenched teeth. “I…don’t…tell me what to do…”

The innocence in Harry’s words sent another shot of fire from my belly to my cock. I captured his lips again and slid my hand over his to wrap them around both our shafts. I slowly slid our hand up and down the length of our cocks, twisting our hands, and Harry moaned against my lips.

I was trembling with I released his hand and used slid mine down to pull him closer to me. I ran my thumbs up and down his cleft and squeezed his cheeks. We rocked together faster and I tore my lips from his.

“Mark me,” I whimpered when Harry’s thumb brushed over the head of my shaft. “Use you teeth on me and claim me.”

“Mark you,” Harry asked and his breathing was harsh. “Where?”

“Been thinking of it,” I whispered as I circled his pucker with my thumb. “Since we watched that bloody movie.”

“The vampire movie?”

“Yeah, fucking hot,” I moaned again. “Dreamed of it…”

Harry leaned in and pressed his teeth lightly against my neck. I growled when his teeth tugged the skin of my neck and when Harry laved the spot with his tongue my head hit the wall hard.

“Faster, more…fuck…Harry.”

Harry’s hand moved faster along our cocks and I gripped his arse tighter. I guided his hips forward and the friction between our cocks was maddening. Harry’s mouth and teeth were tormenting me and I knew he was leaving his mark up and down my neck. We rocked faster, Harry’s breathing was harsh in my ear, and I could feel myself approaching the edge.

“Gonna…come…Ron…”

I pressed my thumbs hard against his pucker and Harry’s teeth clamped down on my neck. He gave a muffled shout and his body shook as he came. The feeling of his teeth on my neck sent me over the edge and I saw stars when I came.

We stood there together, panting, trying to catch our breath, and he looked up at me and grinned.

“Vampires?”

“Hot vampire,” I panted and swallowed hard. “We don’t need to get all mushy and romantic now do we?”

“Will you wear a My Sweetheart’s necklace for me?” Harry grinned and I groaned.

“Never going to live that down.”

We took a moment to straighten our clothes and Harry leaned back.

“So what about these other dreams?”

“Want to act out the one about the Quidditch showers?” I grinned down at him. “It stars your arse.”

“Fuck.”

“Meet you in the shower—get your Quidditch gloves.” I retorted.

I never said I wasn’t a bit kinky.


End file.
